


Kiss Away the Fear

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Queen Prompts [7]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Semi-Public Sex, Subspace, coming on the face, sub!Brian, well heavy petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: In the weeks after the hepatitis scare, Brian is feeling better but the others keep coddling him. Time to take matters into his own hand.





	1. Boys Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> Fair Warning. The author doesn't frequently write sex, much less four people having it at once.  
> Prompt fill and continuation.

It’s the first time that he’s gone out since leaving the hospital. Brian is feeling significantly better and he wants to prove that to his partners. He’s refraining from alcohol, mostly because he nearly died from his liver, but in part, because he doesn’t think that his partners could handle it either.

They’ve been hovering, and while sweet Brian wishes that they would also just _touch_ him. It’s been a good month and a half since he was released, the stitches from his surgeries are removed and it only aches if he twists too fast. Sex might hurt more than usual, but he can’t verify it because as previously mentioned, his partners haven’t even looked at him sexually. He doubts they’ve gone at it with each other either.

Roger is twitchy, Freddie is bitchy, and while there isn’t anything obvious about John his words are a little more cutting than normal if worked into an argument.

So, his plan has two end results. One, and probably the most important, is proving that he isn’t going to break or die or whatever it is they’ve worked into their heads. Two, and probably the most rewarding, is to get them to have sex with him. It doesn’t even have to be penetrative. He’s going to die, _bad words choice,_ if he has to settle with six more weeks of the most chaste kisses anyone has ever given him.

Brian sighs and sips at his water. The plan has already hit a roadblock, because unlike every other time they’ve gone to a bar they’re all sticking together. He had intended to get all three of them worked up separately, and then go home. Well, he can adjust.

The easiest thing to get them riled would be to flirt and bat his eyes at the first person that looked his way, but as fragile as their relationship seems at the moment it could do more harm than good. He scraps the idea.

His next thought is a little more embarrassing but entirely more plausible. He’ll just have to work them up himself. He’s relieved that it worked out that most of the time just seeing one of them kiss another tends to get them all interested.

The challenge, Brian thinks as he taps the table, is figuring out who isn’t going to go into mothering him about his side. John has been the most affected by the entire thing, wary of illness as he is, and as a result, he’s been the most adamant about Brian following the doctor’s letter to a tee. He glances over to Roger who is lazily watching the bar, Roger has been the most attached to him since coming home mostly as a reassurance.

Then there’s Freddie, who has been more than happy to let Roger and John take the brunt of the aftercare, but there’s a strange air around him. Brian’s caught him staring with eyes that look haunted.

Things happened in that hospital room that he was too out of it to remember. Someday he’ll pry, but he has more pressing issues now.

He continues drumming his fingers on the table weighing his options. The drumming catches John’s attention.

“Bri? You alright?”

Brian shrugs, “I feel fine, just as I did last time you asked.”  
John looks at him doubtfully and opens his mouth. Brian, having done this dance at least eight times today, simply surges up to cover the lips with his own. He feels more than hears John’s surprised gasp, but after another second, he returns pressure. With some impressive maneuvering, _without his side hurting thank you very much,_ he straddles John.

The position urges John to deepen the kiss. Brian’s eyes nearly roll back with the surge of pleasure because _finally,_ they’re getting somewhere. Then John is pushing at his chest and Brian’s eyes are rolling for a completely different reason.

“Brian!”

He rubs some of the drool from the corner of his mouth with his thumb looking demurely, “hm?”

“You still haven’t recovered,” John says breathlessly.

“John, I swear I will stop it if it gets too much,” Brian bargains.

For extra incentive, he grinds his hips down. At any other time, he’d be embarrassed at how fast he’d gotten hard. John gasps and his hands drift down to Brian’s hips. It feels like a victory.

“He is right, you know, darling,” Freddie coos from somewhere behind him.

“We just don’t want to hurt you, yeah,” Roger adds.

“Not to mention,” John tightens his fingers, “we’re in public, you know.”

Brian counts to ten in his head. Well, it looks like he’s going to have to pull out his secret weapon.

“Hasn’t stopped any of you before, from ordering me to my knees in whatever dirty bathroom you find yourself randy in.”

The low groan must have come from Roger. Brian dips his head down to John’s neck and mouths at it. From this angle, he can just make out Freddie’s dark eyes locked onto him. For added effect he grinds his hips again. He doesn’t have enough room, otherwise, he’d drop down for a second.

“Come on,” he whines, “don’t you want to see me on my knees again?”

The choked gasp is entirely Freddie. He feels hands bury into his hair and his head is pulled backward for an awkwardly angled kiss with Roger. It doesn’t stop the groan that leaves his lips, and this time his hips move involuntarily looking for friction. He finds it against John’s lower belly.

“You’re pushing it,” Roger rumbles when he pulls away.

Brian blinks innocently, “so you’d rather have me on my back?”

“Drop it, Brian,” the order comes from Freddie.

It makes him shiver, and he nearly considers following it. He’s not keen on punishment, but at least it’ll get him something _more_ than what he’s getting. By nature, he adores the praise more than shaming dirty talk, _desperate times and all that._

“Or would you rather have me on all fours and ass up?” He keeps his tone politely curious.

Freddie slides around the booth and again he’s guided by his hair. This kiss is far more punishing than Roger’s, and really this is a terrible way to get him to stop, which only convinces him to keep being bratty. Once his hair is dropped, he pulls away. Despite John’s fingers digging into his hip, he can tell that John isn’t as invested as Roger or Freddie.

Just as he’s about to return his attention to John, fingers cup around his jaw and drag him so that he’s making eye contact with John. He can barely see any green, with how wide John’s pupils have blown. It dawns on him that John’s favorite past time is punishing him when he gets mouthy.

Really, it’s a wonder they get anything done in the studio.

“Pouting because you won’t get what you want, huh, Bri?”

The deep register does _things_ to him that he can’t explain.

“Throwing a tantrum won’t get you what you want.”

“Seems to have worked out,” Brian grins.

John lets out a low groan that turns into a growl, and Brian knows that he has him. This kiss has far more intention behind it than any of the other ones. When John breaks the kiss and delivers a sharp bite, Brian practically goes limp. He wants this so bad.

“I think we need to have a _talk_ about your behavior, and then we’ll see how you feel.”

_Oh, thank god._


	2. Boys Night In

Brian thinks he’s going to lose his mind in the best way possible. While they had walked to the bar, he’s sure it was an attempt to tire him out so that they didn’t have to stay long the mothering hens that they were, they decide to take a cab back to their flat. John’s hand is just resting over his crotch, not moving and definitely not applying any pressure. Every time he bucked up into it, he’d get a heated warning glance from John.

He’s familiar enough with the look to know to keep his hips still. It’s pure tortuous bliss, and a part of his mind that’s slowly taking over likes that John is _owning_ him in this small way.

When they pull up to their flat, Freddie is the first one out and unlocking the flat in record time. Roger pulls out his wallet to pay the driver. Meanwhile, Brian waits for John’s okay for him to move, the hand still a slight warning. When twenty seconds pass, John nods and climbs out of the cab. Brian takes a second to readjust his shirt on the off chance that someone is passing by then he too steps out.

John wraps an arm around his waist, his hand applies enough pressure to urge Brian to move. He rolls his eyes, away from John’s gaze, when he sees that Freddie has left the door open to the flat in his apparent excitement. Brian enters the flat and hears the shower running. Odd, but Freddie is a man built on eccentrics.

“Bedroom,” John purrs, “strip and on your knees.”

Brian moves like a man possessed to follow John’s command. His clothes come off and are folded and set on the chair, then he frowns.  John hadn’t specified whether or not he should be on the floor or bed. They’re going to make him wait, so the bed would be more comfortable, but a more stubborn part of him wants to drive them as mad as they’ve driven him. So he drops to the floor, head bowed enough that he can still see the door and be ready for when they come in.

The shower cuts off a few minutes later, and when all three of them enter in quick succession he knows they had been having their own private chat about him. It only makes his dick strain more, but he makes no obvious attempt to draw their attention. He’s curious more than he should be.

Really, it’s embarrassing how badly he wants this. Then again, they haven’t had sex since a few days before he fell really ill. At least it should be flattering how badly he wants them.

“Good lad,” John coos.

Brian’s hips twitch seeking friction despite knowing logically that there won’t be any.

“Look at him,” Roger says, “look at how bad he wants it.”

Fingers go under his chin and tilt his head up. He knows it’s John because of the callouses before his eyes meet the neutral face of John. Part of him is curious what they’ve come up with because he doubts it’s anything that’s going to put too much strain on his side.

“Since you wanted to be mouthy, we’re going to put that mouth to good use. Isn’t that right Roger?”

Brian’s head is moved so that he can see Roger is sitting on the edge of this bed with his legs parted. Roger’s dick is already half hard. His mouth waters. John touches his side and encourages him to move so that he’s now kneeling in front of Roger. Their eyes meet, and Brian has another surge of unfamiliar stubbornness. Maybe because he’s annoyed, but usually he drops to his knees before any of them finish the order.

Roger seems to sense his hesitation and shoves a thumb into Brian’s mouth and after a second Brian does open and Roger uses just enough pressure to keep it open. Although he can see Roger’s dick twitch with interest.

“Are you going to be a brat all night?”

Brian licks at the digit still in his mouth.

“Okay then,” Roger pants, “tongue out.”

He lets his jaw open a little wider and his tongue flattens. There’s a groan to his left that sounds like Freddie. Brian wonders why Freddie hadn’t actually touched him yet, but the thought is abruptly cut off when Roger raises his tip. After a beat, he leans forward and swipes his tongue over the slit. Roger still isn’t fully hard, and Brian wonders if he’s lost his touch after all.

Well, he can’t have that.

Brian takes a second to relax his throat and getting his breathing right before taking half of Roger’s length in one go and sucking. That does the trick and after a few more hard sucks Roger is sitting heavy on his tongue. Hands are on the back of his head, and he responds to the encouragement. He takes Roger to the base easily. There’s a hand splayed between his shoulder blades and its scratching just hard enough to cut through the pleasure with pain.

It already feels like he’s disconnected from his body and he falls into a rhythm of sucking and licking. He keeps his hands behind his back without having been told, because he knows that Roger has a thing for that. Brian pulls back to place teasing licks at the tip.

“Fuck, Bri, babe,” Roger chants, “already a mess. Look at you, drooling after sucking my dick.”

He groans and shifts his hips up desperate for friction. To his surprise, John wraps a hand around his cock. Brian holds hips still wondering what the game is, and then he feels something rubber around the base. It nearly rips a whine from his throat.

“If you’re going to be a brat, you’ll have to beg,” John whispers next to his ear.

John pulls away and sits next to Roger, look rather prim, despite how turned on he looks. Roger diverts his attention.

“Finish it, and swallow.”

Brian relaxes his throat and again goes to the base. One of Roger’s hands finds his hair and thumb swipes at some of the drool. He braces for the thrust seconds before Roger delivers it. The pace Roger sets is brutal in its own way, fast but not hard. Brian closes his eyes and lets Roger do what he will, vaguely hearing the slur of words leaving Roger’s mouth.

When Roger finally comes, he barely hears the warning. Brian is mostly able to swallow the load, and what he doesn’t is smeared around his mouth. Roger gasps for a few seconds.

“Christ, I forgot how good you are at that.”

With that, Roger lays back, and instead of answering because his throat needs a few minutes to recover he noses at the crease of Roger’s thigh. Slowly he becomes aware of the edge of pain on his side and from his dick. He ignores it determined to see this through. Brian bows his head and looks up to John between his lashes. John has a hand around his prick and looks like he’s trying to stop his own orgasm.

“Not so much of a brat now,” John huffs, “now that you’ve got your fill.”

“More,” he begs.

It’s about as coherent as he can manage between his slow slide back into his sex brain and sore throat.

“Oh, don’t worry, pet.”

Brian whines so hard it makes the ache worse.

“What should we do with him now, hm, Fred?”

There’s enough edge to his voice that Brian can tell they’re having a level of conversation he can’t even begin to grasp.

He turns his head to where he sees Fred. With some disappointment, he sees Freddie is still in his jeans, although another part of him finds it arousing. Fred shoving the pants down enough to get his dick free and ramming it home. His legs spread automatically. It doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“Oh? Having dirty thoughts, pet?”

Brian nods.

“Care to share them with the class?”

Even Roger seems to recover at the statement.

It takes him a second to gather the words that are scattered around his head. To be fair it feels like most of the blood in his body is pooled in his dick.

“Want Freddie,” he groans out, “want Fred to fuck… me with his pants still on.”

That does get Freddie to sit up from where he’s leaning back, “me?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Not a bad idea, pet,” John is stroking his hair now, “how would you want him to fuck you?”

Again, it takes him a second to gather the words, is it possible to blow your own brains out sucking someone else off?

“On my stomach.”

“Want Roger to work you open while you suck me off?”

“Oi,” Roger complains.

“Please.”

Roger raises up a little further on his elbow. Just as Roger opens his mouth Brian cuts him off, he’s done being bratty, he can’t even remember why he was in the first place.

“Please, Rog. Please. Please. Please. Let me fuck myself on your fingers please.”

His hips grind against nothing, but the idea is fully in his head now and he wants it.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you beg,” Roger rolls over, “get up here then.”

Brian scrambles to his feet, nearly falling over because his legs have stiffened from kneeling so long. Luckily, it’s a short walk to the bed and he falls backward.

“On your front, pet.”

It’s the first order Freddie has given him all night, and he all but throws himself onto his back. From this position, he can’t see what Roger is doing, but he does hear the drawer opening and the crinkling of papers. John is in front of him, or rather it’s more apt to say that his cock is. Brian stretches to place kisses along the length of it.

“Eager?” John chuckles.

Brian tilts his lips down onto the bed for some relief but makes him groan with the feeling of over stimulation. John looks away from him and over to something behind him. He huffs and starts mouthing again. A long groan leaves his chest when he feels something cold against his entrance. Roger doesn’t torture him for long and he feels a single finger enter.

At the same moment, John settles in a position that allows Brian to wrap his lips around the head. He waits for a second, and sure enough, John thrusts deep enough that his blunt head hits the back of Brian’s throat. It’s nearly too much, and if he didn’t have the cock ring on, Brian’s sure he would have come. John pulls out of his throat and Brian goes back to work licking and mouthing at John’s dick. Occasionally John stops him to thrust deeply again.

Meanwhile, he can feel Roger add a second finger and starts nipping at his cheeks. It’s a slightly unpleasant burn, it has been a while, but Roger adds more lube and after a few more minutes, Brian pushes back against him. John takes that moment to thrust up, and Roger finds that spot. He can’t imagine the noise that would have left him had he not had his mouth full. Although it’s loud enough that it causes vibrations in his chest.

It must’ve caused some sort of feeling in John because now the praise won’t stop. There’s enough discomfort that Brian isn’t fully slipping again, and he can listen to John’s words.

“Look at you, still sucking cock like a champ,” John’s hands are tight in his hair, “pushing against Roger like you can’t wait for more. You’re doing so well. God, you’re beautiful like this stretched out and eager. Fuck, your tongue is magical.”

None of it makes sense, but it renews Brian’s vigor and he licks a stripe up the vein of John’s cock. Roger adds a third finger and twists. This time there’s nothing stopping the noise and he keens. John tugs on his hair and stops him for a beat.

“Close?”

“Just about,” Roger replies.

John keeps his head angled up and his throat tight.  He feels Roger lean over him and lips are at his throat. Brian feels Roger lick him and then sink his teeth down into that same spot. As he had at the bar he goes pliable. Roger’s chuckles vibrate against his neck and he mouths at the bite. He lifts off, and then one of John’s fingers is pressing at the bruise he left at the bar. His jaw drops automatically.

Roger twists his fingers again and hit that spot in him. It makes him whine out. John’s hand is still against his throat, but his other hand is working around his cock.

“Look at that,” Roger purrs.

The drummer’s calloused hands rub at his ass molding it and playing with it. Brian can’t muster more thought that to let out another sharp groan. Behind him the bed creaks, but his attention, at least as much as he can focus, is on John’s hand.

“Eyes closed,” John grits out.

He does so nearly automatically. Seconds later he feels something hot and sticky land on his face. Brian swipes his tongue around his lip, gather what he could and tasting John.

“Fuck, you have no idea how hot that is,” John pants.

Fingers trace around his eyes and then he feels a finger being placed on his tongue. He closes his mouth around it and sucks.

“You make such a pretty sight pet.”

Smoother hands wrap around his hips. Brian tilts back into them.

“Ready, love?”

Freddie’s voice sounds like pure water. Brian nods and it makes John’s finger press harder into his throat.

“Words, pet.”

“Yes. Please. Fuck. Fuck me. Please. Freddie, please. I’ve been good.”

His head is yanked back, gently, and Freddie places a kiss near the corner of his mouth.

“Oh you make quite the sight,” Freddie murmurs, “red lips and come all over your face. You look absolutely ravished.”

Freddie lets his hair go and John sneaks in for a heated kiss. Brian does his best to return it but he’s more focused on the blunt heat near his hole. John’s hand skims his side and hesitates before it reaches his cock. He stops it over his belly and Brian's arms tremble with holding himself up and John leaves him breathless. Then John’s hand fumbles for a second but releases the cock ring.

Brian hisses at the feeling of relief. His hiss pitches up into a near scream as Freddie slides in. He was so near the edge that it was enough to make him come as soon as Freddie bottoms out. His vision whites out and he collapses forward when his arms are no longer able to hold him up. Freddie wraps a hand around the back of his neck, and if he hadn’t already come, that show of dominance would have made him.

Eventually, he gets enough coherency to thrust back out of time with Freddie, but the hands on his hips still him.

“So willing to be used, hm,” Freddie coos, “completely spent and still letting me fuck into that pretty ass of yours.”

It’s about this time that Brian notices the secondary sensation of fabric rubbing against his thighs. So, Freddie _had_ fucked him in his jeans. Brian’s eyes roll back, and he lets out another high keen. Freddie doesn’t last much longer; a fact Brian is immensely grateful for because as soon as Freddie pulls out, he passes out.

Brian comes to feeling a warm rag being drawn across his face. He’s not super aware of anything but the motion of rag. There’re hands on his body, but he keeps his eyes closed just to enjoy the blissful silence of his usually loud brain. Slowly physical sensations start registering again, mostly the ache in his throat and hips, _his side isn’t even a problem he wins._ The rest of the senses start filtering starting with his nose until he’s pretty much aware of what’s going on in the room.

Someone is rubbing his head, must be Roger because the palms are calloused. The rag has moved to his stomach, and the quick even pressure assures him that it’s John. By default, that means Freddie is the heat curled next to him.

The voices are pitched low enough that in his still mostly dazed state he doesn’t care to decipher. All he really cares about it the attention his boys are giving him.

Eventually, the blissed feeling does fade, and he flutters his eyes open and _yeah that was Roger cradling his head._ Roger grins at him.

“Welcome back.”

John is coming back from, Brian is guessing, the bathroom. He leans over Brian’s other side and has a small smile, but there’s a note of concern in his eyes.

“You went under fast and long,” he comments.

“Been awhile,” Brian shrugs, “sometimes it happens. Feel great though.”

So, he might still be a little high on endorphins because he can hear how blissed out he sounds. Freddie squirms and Brian turns his attention to him. Roger is snickering into his hands about _“he looks fuckin stoned.”_

“I thought I’d hurt you,” Fred remarks dryly, “you’ve never…passed out before.”

“No, needed this. Thank you.”

That makes John perk up, “you _needed_ it?”

Brian stretches out his legs, _oh_ there’s a cramp forming, and curls a little more into the curve of Freddie, “mmm.”

“Bri, you wanna fill us in on what’s going on upstairs?” Roger asks, “if you can string a complete sentence together.”

He furrows his brow. It’s always been tricky to explain, even to past partners, “ it's like. Floaty and relaxing? Makes me know you love me.”

“Of course, we love you,” Freddie says.

“Mm, know that.”

Brian apparently drifted off for a second because he blinks away. Roger is looking at him expectantly. He struggles to remember what they were talking about.

“Let’s me feel it. Trust you.”

Freddie chuckles, “sleep, we’ll talk when you can think.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

The morning after a scene is the best in Brian’s opinion. The aches are pleasant, his thoughts are clear. He falls more in love with his boys because they’re both cuddled in the same position he vaguely remembers being in when he fell asleep last night. Brian counts and realizes that it’s Roger wrapped around his shoulders and John has a leg thrown over his hip. Freddie isn’t touching him.

He sits up and sees that Freddie cross-legged at the head of the bed.

“Fred, come here,” Brian rasps.

Good thing they don’t have any shows, and they can get by with just recording his guitar for the next few days.

“Brian,” Freddie hesitates.

He tilts his head, “yeah?”

“What do you remember about the hospital?”

“Not much after I got admitted, honestly, and the more once the fever broke.”

God, he sounds _wrecked._

If he had his way, they’d never talk about it. While he doesn’t know much of what happened, he can tell that it had a lasting impression on his partners. They do need to talk about it, he just doesn’t know how to comfort them.

“The night before…” Freddie starts.

John stirs awake. He watches Brian but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

“The night before you went in for surgery and we still didn’t know if medicine could do enough to save or liver or your arm, you weren’t really lucid, but you were coherent.”

_Ah,_ Brian thinks, this is the root of all the coddling and anxiety. He elbows Roger awake, who reads the room quickly and hooks his chin on Brian’s shoulder.

Freddie looks heavenward and Brian wants to know what he said. It hurts him to know that he’s caused this much hurt. Both Roger and John tighten around him, so either they heard it or Freddie told him. He’s assuming Freddie told them a second-hand account if he puts all of the past weeks’ behaviors together.

Freddie takes a shaky breath, “you said. You told me with all certainty you can muster, that. That it doesn’t matter if they save your liver if they can’t save your arm.”

Brian winces. For all that he wants to reassure Freddie that he hadn’t meant _that,_ losing his arm would be one of the few things that would drive him to that point. Roger’s fingers lift to his pulse point and John rests his ear over his heart for just a second before he moves over to Freddie.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It’s all he can say.

“We do love you Brian, more than you can ever imagine, and you saying that you would. That you could even seriously considered. It was too much. I couldn’t sleep for days after, because I kept thinking that what if I woke up and this was all a dream and they couldn’t save your arm.”

Brian hugs him.

“When you started getting better all I could think of was a relapse,” Freddie murmurs into his neck, “I can’t go through that again.”

“None of us can,” Roger wraps around his back, “so try not to do that again.”

Brian pulls back enough so that the grip isn’t as tight, “I’m not fragile. I won’t break, I didn’t before I got sick, and the doctors even said that relapses would never be as bad as the initial onset and rare if I keep myself out of trouble.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” John pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“So, let’s stop treating each other like glass and start acting as we did before. We still have a lot to do before we become the world’s best rock band.”

They take turns kissing after Brian’s declaration, and not stopping until each pair had been made. Brian grins as he’ s forced to his back, by Roger trying to wrestle John. The two goals that he had at the start of last night have been met, and he could be more thrilled.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't fuckin know. As always leave your thoughts and comments below, and I'm going to reevaluate my life in the meantime.  
> @Sammyspreadyourwings


End file.
